27) Our Love is only Like
by Virtually Forgotten
Summary: He wonders if perhaps happiness was found in the small things, like the crinkle in her nose when she smiled, like the way his name sounds like a song when it's her saying it and the way all the seasons in the year seemed to be dyed in memories of her.


_**A/N: **__I wrote this back in August 20, 2017 so for anyone who might recognize me from tumblr or AO3, unfortunately this isn't a new work. I really haven't written anything new in…a while. It's as if I've forgotten how to write…but anyway, this is one of my favorites and I realized I hadn't posted it here so here it is! This work was based on prompt 27 from the A Softer Worlds prompt list on tumblr. Please read and review!_

_**Summary:**__ "__He wonders if perhaps happiness was found in the small things, like the crinkle in her nose when she smiled, like the way his name sounds like a song when it's her saying it and the way all the seasons in the year seemed to be dyed in memories of her."_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Kohei Horikoshi does._

* * *

_~x~_

_Prompt: __"Our love is like. Our love is only like. (I like you. I don't LIKE like you.)"_

_~x~_

* * *

Bakugou often thinks that happiness isn't a gift that he's been blessed to give to others.

He is a boy who had claws for hands and fangs for teeth. Half-man, all beast; whose hands itched for blood and whose ego sought only guts and glory. He knew about bashing skulls, breaking bones and crushing the spines of those he felt were beneath him. He knew how to make people hurt, how to make them bleed, but he didn't know about how to make those around him smile. At least, that's what he thought before _her_.

Sometimes he'd say something during lunch and she would find it belly-achingly hilarious, her apple cheeks glowing red and mouth wide open as she'd roll around the floor in loud, hiccupping guffaws. Sometimes he'd buy an extra piece of her favorite melon bread before the cafeteria would run out of it (_"I just had fucking extra!" He would lie each time_) and the way her eyes would light up in gleaming gratefulness would make him wonder if he made her happy; if only just a little.

He's not used to these kinds of thoughts and he doesn't know when he started having them.

He doesn't know if it was in their first year, or second year, or sometime during the current year. He doesn't know if it was in the autumn when the two of them would walk back side-by-side to the dorms with the fall leaves crackling underneath their feet like flames.

He doesn't know if it was in the winter when both of their train rides back home had been cancelled by the snowstorm and they'd been the only two left at the UA dorm. The memories of that winter are fresh in his mind. He remembers the heat of her leaning against him, of shared blankets and shared scarves and the unforgettable taste of hot cocoa on his tongue the first moment she'd called him "friend".

He doesn't know if it was in the spring, when they'd started the new school year and she had tried to find a new nickname for him on par with his "round-face" nickname for her (_"Dandelion-head! Lion-head!" She'd given up after he nearly blew up the cafeteria from that last one.)_

He doesn't know if it was in the summer when their class had gone on another training camp trip and the both of them had snuck off during the night for an evening hike. Perhaps it was that night, when he'd caught a glance of her ethereal profile, illuminated golden by the light of the fireflies. Firecrackers had gone off in the pit of his stomach and there had been a dizzying, unfamiliar heat in his veins that had felt like a million stars falling from the sky.

He doesn't know when or where in the kaleidoscope of their memories together she had become irreplaceable in his life, a near necessity, but she had.

When he was with her, he wondered if _maybe_ there was more to life than glory and adoration from others. He wondered if perhaps happiness was found in the small things, like the crinkle in her nose when she smiled, like the way his name sounds like a song when it's her saying it and the way all the seasons in the year seemed to be dyed in memories of her. She made him think that…maybe someone would stay and love him just because _he _was _him_ and not because he was the best and perhaps, he was wrong; perhaps someone like him _could_ make somebody else happy.

But of course, he'd never say these weakass thoughts out loud. He didn't have the time for cliché long walks on the beach, for sunset kisses, for bakery dates, for zero-gravity cuddles or—.

"Your eyes are so pretty," Ochako interrupts his train of thought one day in between heavy gulps of air. They are both sweaty and exhausted from their latest sparring match, sprawled out across the worn-out UA gym mats. The smell of fading smoke and nitroglycerin fumes hangs thickly in the air from Bakugou's merciless onslaught (_—_because it was never _just_ practice to him; not that she would have it any other way).

Bakugou clicks his tongue and takes a heavy swig of water before growling, "you had enough time to pay attention to my _fucking eyes_?"

"I just _happened _to notice!"

He takes another sip of water and hums in disbelief. "Next time maybe don't stare into my eyes like some fucking creep _(—"I wasn't!" She protests_—) and maybe you'll actually beat me one day."

"I was really close today though!" Ochako's eyes glimmer brightly as she rolls over onto her stomach and looks up at him. "If I'd only been a split second faster at the end!"

"Almost isn't good enough."

She frowns as he swings to his feet and walks away from her. "_Right_," her sarcastic voice follows him, "I'm sure to you 'almost' is a word only losers use to make themselves feel better."

"Damn straight," he starts to agree and then whirls around to glare at her, "_I mean_—_don't fucking act like you know me_!" He snatches his duffel bag with a huff and Ochako snickers at his cute temper tantrum as she follows behind him.

"But I _do_ know you," she starts as she opens up her duffel bag, "and I—_where's my umbrella_?"

Bakugou scoffs at her, a mocking smirk spreading across his lips at her usual forgetfulness. "You probably forgot it again," he teases as he triumphantly pulls out his own.

"I _swear_ I put it in my bag this morning!" Ochako quickly ruffles through her duffel bag and comes up empty-handed. The sky rumbles and churns darkly with plump ash-grey clouds and she could tell from the rain pelting heavily against the windows that it was already pouring hard. Immediately, she realizes there's only one way of getting through the downpour outside and her gaze quietly slides to Bakugou and the umbrella in his hands.

"Fuck off!" Bakugou flares, realizing her intentions. "Not my fucking problem if you forget your umbrella ever damn time it rains!"

"Please!" She presses her hands together and pleads. "I'd be eternally grateful!"

"Like _that_ fucking means anything!"

Ochako shuffles over to him and peeks over her fingertips, cinnamon brown eyes wide and eyelashes fluttering. "Please?"

Fuck her and her large doe eyes, always making him bend and break. He coughs in an attempt to compose himself and then makes a show of thinking about her request, arms crossed over his chest with a huff and bottom-lip jutting out in half-frustration and half-contemplation.

"Fuck it, _fine_," he quickly turns away to hide any evidence of excitement on his part, "but you fucking owe me, round-face!"

Her face lifts and her eyes sparkle with a smile. "Thank you!" She cheers, rushing after him. Bakugou feels his cheeks heat up as Ochako presses to his side and flashes that godforsaken bright smile at him. "You're a lifesaver!"

"Next time you forget your umbrella I'm leaving you in the damn rain," he threatens but they both know he was just talk. They step out of the gym and Bakugou pushes the umbrella open with a pop before holding it over the both of their heads and stepping out into the rain.

They walk through puddles and mud, the watercolor rain falling around them in dripping hues of grey. The staccato sound of the rain pounding against their umbrella surrounds them, but it feels safe and warm underneath the cover of the umbrella, protected in their own world and separated from the harsh elements.

He faintly wishes they could walk just a little bit slower, that the dorm rooms were just a little bit further…

"Are you okay on your side?" Ochako asks as she presses closer to him and locks arms with him.

"I'm fine," he lies despite the fact that his left side had definitely seen better days. It was beyond drenched but he figured it was too late to try and salvage it now.

"Thanks again," she says and her voice is soft, almost completely drowned out by the white noise of the pouring rain. "You know, I don't think I've said it before but I'm really glad that you're my friend."

He huffs and looks away, now acutely aware of the sensation of her pressed tight against him. "_I_ never agreed to that."

"Bakugou-kun!" She lands a soft punch on his arm with her free arm, "this is the part where you say, 'I'm really glad that I'm your friend too'!"

And, again, he doesn't know when it happens. He doesn't know when he's said it but by the time he realizes that he's asked her, "and what about more than friends?" the damage has been done. He can sense the sudden stutter in her step and the way she leans away from him ever so slightly, the sense of friendly comfort gone and forever lost by his reckless words. Her arm unwinds from his and her hands clutch at her backpack strap, wringing them uncomfortably.

"W-what?" She replies softly. Bakugou can feel the heat of her gaze on him and he can't bear to look at her, he can't even bear to speak.

Ochako seems to ruminate over his words before answering softly. "I…never really thought about it." Her words come out slowly. "Cause, I mean, I like you—."

She was landing blow after blow into his gut and it took everything he had not to drop the umbrella and crumble to his knees. He could feel his stomach drop to the floor at the impending "but".

"But," and she lands the final blow, "I don't like LIKE you…"

His fingertips are numb and it's hard to believe that just a moment ago they were buzzing at every brief contact with her hands. It was as if his entire vocabulary had been obliterated. He didn't even have the energy to curse and even if he did, what would he curse at? For falling in love? For saying those words out loud even when he'd promised himself not to? For not being strong to enough to take this rejection head-on? None of those were her fault. It was his own fault for wanting more, for being greedy and discontent with what they already had.

It was all his own damn, stupid, fucking fault.

And so, they walk the rest of the way back to the dorms in painful silence.

"Good night, Bakugou-kun," Ochako whispers after they enter the lobby and stand before their respective elevators for the boys' and girls' side. There's thinly veiled sympathy in her voice and that kills him even more. He grunts back his indiscernible reply and quickly rushes into the elevator before she can say anything else. His mind is blank throughout the rest of the way back to his room. He walks down the hallway the same way he's always done. He stabs his key into the key hole and twists the doorknob the same he's always done and enters it before slamming it behind him.

Everything is the same and yet everything is different.

The shadows of his room look twisted and demented, as if they were ghosts mocking him for the rejection he'd just received. "Fuck," he curses into the darkness, as if to scare the shadows away but they don't go anywhere. The darkness stays and hangs in his chest like a fog, thick and dense with regret. The pin prickling regret sloshes inside of him like the sea, like his insides were caught in the merciless ebb and flow of the ocean and all he could do was to surrender himself to it and _feel it all_. He struggles to catch his breath, struggles to blink away the hot, angry tears in his eyes as his heart beats, and beats, and beats like a raw, bleeding wound.

"Fuck…"

His backpack drops to the floor with a thud and Bakugou slams his back to the door. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_." He slides down against the door before plopping onto the floor and cradling his head in his hands.

It hurt, it hurt like a _fucking bitch_ but today he would just have to take in that pain. Today he would let it hurt and hurt and hurt until it didn't hurt anymore and then tomorrow would be a new day. Tomorrow he'd rebuild himself. Tomorrow he would once again be a fortified fortress of muscle and fiery aggression; cracking skulls, breaking spines and aiming for the top. Tomorrow he would renounce the butterflies in his stomach, the Kaminari-esque electricity he felt in his veins when he thought of her and the ridiculous idea that anything but absolute victory over everyone and everything could ever bring him joy.

Today it would hurt but tomorrow he would put on his armor and he would be strong again.

And never again would he be at the mercy of someone else.

Never again would he trick himself into thinking that happiness was a gift he could give.


End file.
